Where Thoughts Wander ©
by Shadafakup
Summary: The air tastes crisp- sterile, and it sings a broken farewell." A DracoHarry romance packed in a series of drabbles, as told by post-war survivors. "They were something like .. lovers."
1. 100 words of regret: Draco

**Where Thoughts Wander**

_A Draco/Harry romance, as told by post-war survivors._

**Disclaimer:** JKR probably never meant for them to be used by an angst whore. ;)  
**Warnings:** Slash, het, incest implied. Chocked with bitter angst and post-war mangled emotions. Cause it's impossible to come out of that mess unscathed.

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He would say someone forgot to tame his heart. Leaking as it is now, he tarries to find a stopper.

Unknown distances linger on his lips, even though the spicy tang of an awkward companion (naive green eyes in their prime), has long evaporated, leaving behind trails of pale smog.

There is a string of forbidden words, which could spew forth from his mouth, but never mend the gleaming hole.

Tumbling in violent shades of distress, Draco dreams of daisies; white, while their fallen crescent petals decorate the floor. The air tastes crisp- sterile, and it sings a broken farewell.

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**A/N**: Thus begins a series of drabbles, increasing in word count as we go. These are outsider perspectives of Draco and Harry – stay, and indulge.

•Shadafakup


	2. 200 words of sorrow: Colin

**Where Thoughts Wander**

_A Draco/Harry romance, as told by post-war survivors._

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Pictures speak a thousand words, especially if they move. Like a collector of old stamps, he painstakingly stores them in albums. Yellowing corners scream of age, but Colin does not preserve them. Frosted over, the windows of the attic darken the room with each visit. Magic is history to him, another souvenir collected between pages of another album, and he favours it no more.

It has the power to destroy, he concludes, while looking at a decolourized photograph of Dennis standing alone, a blurry coalescence of snow and Hogsmeade in the background. Dennis the warrior! Dennis the defender! Dennis the dead.

Harry saved us all, he reminds himself – the eagerness to please still a dull throb in his psyche. He flips the pages of the "Harry" album and never fails to notice, that the only time Harry's smiles stay, is when he is with Malfoy. He wonders faintly about them – stealing angry glances during matches and along the corridors, wearing passion on their sleeves.

Midnight, his mother crawls into his bed. His arms wrap around her for comfort, but the stiffness of her spine forms seashell marks into his chest; unlike Dennis, whose body's curve slid smoothly into his embrace.

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**A/N**: 10 chapter story in process. Chapter 2 is a double drabble (200 words), Chapter 3 a triple, and so on and so forth. Many thank yous to** falling ice star, fallenAngel12**, and** hypersensitive** for your reviews.

~Shadafakup


	3. 300 words of longing: Neville

**Where Thoughts Wander**

_A Draco/Harry romance, as told by post-war survivors._

**Warnings: **This chapter is mainly smut. It's not that explicit, but nevertheless, you've been warned.

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Sand. The dry, parched landscape commands his vision for miles after endless miles. It was nothing like the comforting atmosphere of plants and greenery, but that's why Neville moved here. Thinking of Hogwarts only makes him remember – the screams, the fever of _Cruciatus_, and endless nights of jerking awake in fear and cold sweat.

Today, however, he allows himself a brief reprieve. The Pensieve lies waiting for him in the drawer, and he taps it with his wand, falling, falling back into the hazy days of youth. Malfoy is standing among the plants, his face raw and brimming with fury. Harry stumbles a few feet away, panting, a drop of blood trickling from his lip. Malfoy rushes forward, and Neville is just about to enter and stop him until he sees them kissing. _Hard_. As Harry's hands fist Malfoy's shirt, Malfoy yanks his tie loose. One of them moans, and they rut at each other fiercely. Harry tears open Malfoy's robes, his hands working furiously at the buttons, as he shrugs his own shirt off. Malfoy tugs at Harry's trousers, fumbling with the belt before yanking them down. Nearly tripping, Harry shoves Malfoy against the nearest table, upsetting a few pots. Neither of them care, both clawing at each other's skins – hot, wet and needy.

Harry drops to his knees, one hand fisting his cock as he stretches his tongue lazily around Malfoy's dick, fingers digging into Malfoy's hips. Malfoy bucks, pulling hard on Harry's hair. With the most obscene noises, Harry sucks and licks as Malfoy thrusts against him, moaning. Harry looks up with hooded eyes, swallowing him entirely as Malfoy shudders and lets out a guttural hiss.

Violently, Neville comes, and he pulls himself out of the memory; spent, and out of breath.

Maybe one day, he thinks, he'll be able to return to Hogwarts.

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**A/N**: Mmm, I've recently started reading fic again, and thought I'd maybe work on one of my long abandoned WIPs. No promises, though. I know Colin died, not Dennis, but I wrote the last 2 chapters 7 years ago, and I have too much nostalgia to attempt at changing it.

Thank you for reading. :)


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